


Draw Me Like One of Your French Men

by Cantabo



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Grantaire, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, possible game of thrones spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantabo/pseuds/Cantabo
Summary: Enjolras is the new model for Grantaire's figure drawing class, and he can't deal with it.





	Draw Me Like One of Your French Men

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a chance to make a Titanic reference in the title and I took it. I am not sorry.

“Alright, fly back, everyone! Break time's over,” Chuck says, heading back to the front of class. Everyone pretty much ignores him, scattered all over the classroom and spilling into the hallway. Grantaire chuckles as Chuck makes sweeping motions with his hands, as if that will reorganize his students.

Jehan and Grantaire stand in the hallway, staring at the ‘interactive’ mural that the Art Education department has put on the wall. As far as Grantaire can tell they’re trying to make a really pixelated blob of nothing.

“I think it’s an abstract representation of the way life passes us by,” Jehan says, sweeping his arm out in a very Chuck-like manner.

Grantaire snorts. “You’re totally off mark. It’s a non-objective piece aiming to be Polluck and Kandinsky’s lovechild.”

“I think you’re confused, R,  _ I  _ am Polluck and Kandinsky’s lovechild,” Jehan says, turning to smirk at him as he walks back into class. 

Grantaire stands there for a moment after he’s gone, staring at the mural a little bit longer. The sign above it reads  _ help us finish our mural! _ and has a bucket of squares in it that coincide with little tiny colored dots on the paper that covers most of the wall. It looks like shit, there’s no denying that, and Grantaire has no idea what the fuck it’s even supposed to represent. 

Then again, it  _ is _ the Art Ed department, and they don’t ever do anything that makes sense.

The sound of the back entrance to the building opening makes Grantaire turn his head. After being a student for fuck knows how long, R knows almost everyone in the building, even if he also hates most of them.

The man who walks through the door is someone that R has never seen, he’s sure of that. There’s no way you can forget a face like this.

He’s got blonde hair that curls so beautifully it just isn’t fair, on top of a sculpted face with cheekbones that aren’t legal. Blue eyes see right through him, scanning over the building in obvious search of something in particular. He’s got a messenger bag over a red polo and jeans that fit unfairly well, and he’s easily the most beautiful thing R has ever seen.

R looks down at himself, taking in the blue flannel he wore, smeared with paint, and his favorite jeans that have a rip in the knee, and heads back into Chuck’s class. He’s not anywhere near the league needed to even earn the look of a guy like that, and Grantaire has become very good at accepting that in life.

R sits back on the horse, the affectionate name for the combination of easel and seat that they all sit at. Jehan is next to him, drawing an illustration of a flower dancing. Grantaire snorts, and leans over to draw a fighter plane, ignoring Jehan trying to sweep his arm away.

“Okay, so I know we’re all used to seeing Musichetta and Courfeyrac up here,” Chuck says, and Grantaire and Jehan look at each other in foreboding unease. Both Musichetta and Courfeyrac have become very good friends with Jehan and Grantaire, especially Chetta, who is dating Grantaire’s best friends Joly and Bossuet. Courfeyrac goes drinking with R and Bossuet, and Chetta and Jehan argue about civil war poetry. 

“Today we’re working with a brand new model. He’s filling in for Courfeyrac while he recovers from a nasty broken clavicle,” Chuck says, glaring at R and Jehan. They both smile and wave, because they’re assholes.

It was totally Courfeyrac’s fault, he’s the one who tried to swan dive off of the counter at the bar.

“This is Enjolras, he’s going to be our model for the next few weeks,” Chuck says, gesturing to the door. Grantaire turns and immediately wishes he was dead.

Of course. 

_ Of course _ it’s the beautiful man that walked in. Why wouldn’t it be? The universe loves to dangle what he can’t have right in front of him.

Grantaire stares at his large drawing pad, praying for a meteor strike, an aneurism, anything that will get him out of his current situation. It’s not good to be attracted to the models, at least not in anything more than an abstract sense. It’s one thing to notice a model is attractive, and another thing to want them to bend your over the horse and make you see stars.

Enjolras steps behind the curtains in the corner of the room, and Chuck makes sure to ‘thank’ Jehan and Grantaire again for getting Courfeyrac good and drunk in front of the entire class.

“We were just doing our civil duty, sir.” Grantaire gives him a shit-eating grin.

“I don’t know why you would ever think you have a civil duty to tell a man to ‘ _ do a flip’ _ while he is drunk and standing on the counter at a bar,” Chuck says, more than a little exasperated.

“I did not plant the seed of the idea. I merely watered it,” Grantaire says, nodding in false seriousness. Jehan makes a quiet humming sound and writes down what Grantaire just said, no doubt about to try and worm it into a poem.

“ _ Consider a different path next time _ ,” Chuck hisses. Grantaire gives him a thumbs up, and Chuck rolls his eyes, clearly having given up on making either of them feel guilty. Grantaire turns and sees the blonde man… Enjolras? staring at him, and turns away, fiddling with his charcoal to avoid any sort of eye contact.

The model walks up to the platform in the middle of the room, uncaring that he’s completely nude and has forgone the robe that Chuck leaves back there for the models. Grantaire feels a little noise escape his throat, and Jehan snorts from next to him.

“You look like you’ve just found religion,” Jehan whispers. 

Grantaire turns and glares. “I’d keep quiet unless you want me to start talking about that one time freshman year when I walked in on you and Montparnasse-”

“Okay yes thank you that’s enough now!” Jehan hisses, making wild shushing arms that draw everyone’s attention. Grantaire can’t help but laugh as he turns forward, yet again making eye contact with the model.

Chuck and him discuss poses for a while, until Enjolras finally settles for perching on the stool and turning his upper body away from where his legs point. 

Grantaire’s mouth goes dry, and he immediately forces him brain to shut down, taking the most clinical approach possible to studying the model’s body. Chuck gives them an hour time limit, and Grantaire dives in with his charcoal, blocking out shapes and shadows, and fine tuning from there.

He doesn’t really notice the passing of time, lost in his work, and even his work is sort of in the passenger seat in his brain right now. It’s an odd state of mind, where he’s not thinking about anything for the most part. It’s a state he usually reserves for intense depressive episodes or intense bouts of anxiety.

That right there is pretty telling about how he’s feeling right about now.

He’s vaguely aware of Chuck clapping his hands, and he has to force himself to put his charcoal down and tune back into what’s happening. 

His drawing is better than… probably any other drawing he’s made this semester. Maybe this year. The lights and shadows are applied in such an intentionally messy way that they mesh perfectly with the clean lines Grantaire had begun with. Jehan looks over and gasps, hugging Grantaire with so much enthusiasm that R can’t help but smile in return.

“Let’s take a ten minute break. Walk around and see what your peers have done, try to figure out what on earth the Art Ed department is tripping on this time, go smoke a bowl, I don’t care. Ten minutes!” Chuck says, heading over to talk to the model, who is looking around the room with mild interest at best. Grantaire avoids his eyes and scurries out of the room, intent on taking the best ten minute siesta he can on the couch in the hallway.

He’s just laid down and closed his eyes, when someone sits squarely on his chest.

Grantaire chokes on air in surprise, groaning when the person puts their full weight on him.

“Oh you big baby, I thought you liked when people sat on you,” Eponine’s sickly sweet voice sing-songs. Grantaire rolls off the couch, pushing her off his chest as he thumps onto the floor, laughing. She smacks him in the stomach as she stands up, offering a hand to him that he waves away. His jeans can’t be much dirtier than the floor as it is. 

“I don’t think you understand the difference between someone sitting on my  _ lap _ and someone sitting on my  _ lungs, _ ” Grantaire snarks, and she barks out a laugh. 

“We’re going to get dinner tonight. Gavroche is staying at a friend’s place and I finally have a night that isn’t filled with dinosaur chicken nuggets and Bill Nye.”

“Hey, Bill Nye is the science guy! Bill, Bill, Bill, Bill!” Grantaire mockingly says, and laughs when Jehan walks out of the door to chant with him.

“Bill! Bill! Bill! Bill!” They’re both chanting at her, and she silences them with a kick to Grantaire’s thigh. He groans and rolls away from her, finally deciding that standing up outweighs the abuse he’ll otherwise endure.

“Okay! Thank you. I’m serious though. I want to watch something with blood and nudity and swearing,” Eponine says, readjusting her bag and the large box of photo paper under her arm.

“I am always okay with a Game of Thrones marathon! But we’re starting with Joffrey and Margaery’s wedding,” Grantaire bargains.

“Of course, I’d be a monster if I disagreed with that,” Eponine scoffs.

“Okay, bring food and I’ll get drinks.”

“You got yourself a deal,” Grantaire nods and they dramatically shake hands.

“I will never understand how you have such a strong friendship based so heavily upon your mutual love of violence and gore,” Jehan says in awe, heading back into the classroom. Grantaire laughs and follows him back in, waving to Eponine as she leaves the building. He stops short when he sees the model, thankfully in a robe, staring at his drawing and talking to Chuck.

Grantaire almost turns around and runs to hide in the bathroom, but Chuck sees him and calls him over. “Speak of the devil! R, get over here and let us compliment you!”

Grantaire wants to die.

“Um.”

“Come!” Chuck says again, his voice leaving no room for argument. Grantaire nods and heads over there, going to stand next to Jehan, who has shamelessly inserted himself into the conversation. The model is staring at him, blue eyes ripping away all of his skin and leaving him flayed and bare. It’s more than a little unnerving.

“We were just talking about how well this turned out,” Chuck says, preening at the chance to try and lighten R’s perpetually sour disposition.

“Oh, thanks…” Grantaire feels very uncomfortable. Bless Jehan, who picks up on that and steers the focus slightly away from him.

“I was just saying that! I think that his choice of contrasting strokes and the choice of using white charcoal is what sets it apart from his other works,” Jehan babbled to them. Chuck nods eagerly, and the model looks interested but slightly lost. Grantaire has no idea why he chose to use white charcoal, he normally hates it in work that isn’t on colored paper, but even he has to agree with Jehan.

“It truly is good,” The model says, looking directly at R. Grantaire swallows and nods, giving him a small smile in return. 

“Thanks, that means a lot.” The model has no idea how much R means that, but that’s for the best.

“I’d like to see what else you’ve done sometime, if you don’t mind me being too forward.”

What?

Wait… what?

“Um, yeah, that would be okay,” Grantaire says, nodding. The model smiles at him then, and R is just  _ fucked. _

This guy is sunshine and ferocity and beauty, and his smile aimed at Grantaire is paralyzing. Grantaire feels himself smile in return, and without conscious thought is reaching his hand out towards the model.

“I’m Grantaire.”

“Enjolras,” he says, and shakes R’s hand firmly. It’s the kind of handshake that people always tell you to practice, firm and assertive but not rough or harsh.

“Nice to meet you.”

“I couldn’t help but overhear what Mr. Sales was saying about Courfeyrac,” Enjolras says, and Grantaire internally cringes at hearing someone refer to Chuck by his last name.

“Oh, yeah. He’s exaggerating. We were all having a good time and it got too carried away. Jehan and I drove him to the hospital and everything. He makes it sound like we left him there,” Grantaire says, laughing awkwardly.

“Oh, no I know you didn’t. Courfeyrac is my roommate, I didn’t realize you were Grantaire until Chuck mentioned that.”

“Well, you’ve found me,” R says, and Enjolras smiles again at that.

“That I did.”

Grantaire gulps, and wonders if he’s being flirted with, and then dismisses the thought. Guys who look like this don’t flirt with Grantaire.

“Listen, a group of friends and I are going down to this pub tonight, The Musain. You and Jehan should come by,” Enjolras says, smiling. Grantaire knows the pub, Bahorel is one of the bartenders there, and he always regails Grantaire of the fun times had there during their boxing classes.

“I- uh. I have plans to hang out with a friend tonight, would you be cool if I showed up with her, too? I’m not going to ditch her,” Grantaire says, because if R blows Ep off on the 1% chance he might get laid she will break his fingers.

Something in Enjolras’ face changes, but he nods and smiles again. “Of course.”

“Cool,” Grantaire says, and is worried the conversation is about to get awkward when Jehan steps in and saves the day.

“Eponine is the best, her and R are like the best friends in the universe. They’ve been buddies since they were in grade school. She should bring Cosette!” Jehan cries, throwing his hands up excitedly.

“Cosette?” Enjolras asks.

“Cosette is her girlfriend. She’s wonderful, super sweet and has the meanest left hook I’ve ever been on the receiving end of,” Grantaire says. Enjolras’ posture seems to relax a bit, and R can’t help but laugh at the memory of her showing up to boxing class with him, five foot two and determined to beat every last one of them.

Which, she naturally did.

“Sounds like you’ve got a fun group of friends, you guys should all come,” Enjolras says, nodding. Grantaire tries out a smile on him and nods, and feels his gut tighten up when Enjolras smiles back.

-

Eponine is angry when he puts off the Purple Wedding for a night, but lightens up significantly when he says he’ll buy her and Cosette’s drinks if they come with. Cosette, who is always up for hanging out with friends and meeting new people, accepts without a second thought.

It’s a pleasant and honestly relieving surprise that Grantaire knows most of the people at the meeting. There are at the most four people he hasn’t met, and he didn’t realize how many friends he and Enjolras had in common. Everyone is on the second floor of the bar, the room clearly set up for some kind of meeting, but everyone is currently just sort of hanging out.

Eponine and Cosette start off sitting with Grantaire, but they both make some pretty intense eye contact with this freckled dude and run off, leaving Grantaire high and dry to fend for himself. Thankfully, because Courfeyrac is a wonderful savior and a cheerful bastard, he almost immediately takes their spot.

“Hey man, what the fuck are you doing here?” Courf asks, hugging Grantaire with the arm not in a sling. Grantaire hugs him back and laughs, relieved to have someone to talk to.

“Your on tap Adonis invited me,” Grantaire says, and Courf laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Are you doing this too? All I heard when he got home was ‘Grantaire did blah blah blah’, and ‘you should have seen how cute he blinked earlier’, and shit like that. I also heard you made a literal masterpiece today,” Courf needles, and Grantaire can feel his cheeks going pink.

“I don’t know about that…”

“Anything that makes Enjolras gush for that long is definitely special, trust me,” Courfeyrac says, smiling. Grantaire doesn’t really have anything to say to that, but he’s thankfully saved by Enjolras getting everyone’s attention. 

Grantaire doesn’t realize this whole get together is A Thing until Enjolras takes the stage, and just.

Just.

Enjolras is a force of nature when he’s in his element. Because he’s absolutely in his element right now, there’s no denying it. Blue eyes that took him apart this morning light him on fire tonight, and Grantaire is captivated, itching to draw the line his neck makes when he turns his head to listen to one of his friends, the way his hands dance through the papers he’s holding, 

The meeting must last for an hour, and Grantaire barely notices. It’s a waste of time, a part of him thinks, but the rest of him sees it as a doorway, a chance to find ways to do things that actually make a difference, even if they’re the smaller ideas people here have. Grantaire finds himself enjoying Musichetta’s idea of volunteering much more than Enjolras’ original idea of making public speeches outside of city hall.

They wrap up, all having reached some sort of consensus Grantaire can’t understand, but finds himself smiling none the less at the sense of camaraderie.

“What did you think?” Enjolras asks him, some time later. 

“I, uh-” Grantaire starts, and he sees Enjolras’ smile dip slightly when he isn’t outrightly energetic. He doesn’t want to hurt Enjolras’ feelings, but he isn’t going to lie, either. “Personally I don’t really think protesting does any good, but I think helping people is something that’s worth doing,” Grantaire settles on, and Enjolras gives him a different sort of smile, one that’s smaller and unfamiliar to Grantaire.

“That’s an interesting perspective,” Enjolras says, nodding his head. 

“I’m full of interesting perspectives,” Grantaire shoots back, grinning. Enjolras grins back, and maybe all the shit Courfeyrac said wasn’t total bullshit.

They talk, and talk. Grantaire finds himself playing devil’s advocate, winding Enjolras up to a point that he’s pink in the face before he realizes that Grantaire’s just trying to work him up, and then, inexplicably, he laughs.

“I should have realized you weren’t serious when you suggested capital punishment as an alternative to defensive driving,” Enjolras says, laughing between words. Grantaire can’t help but giggle and nod his head, feeling like a high schooler talking to his first crush, and not a 26 year old man.

“I was reaching pretty far at that point,” Grantaire agrees, and suddenly realizes how close he and and Enjolras are sitting.

Enjolras suddenly looks at him, a look on his face Grantaire can’t identify, and leans even closer.

“I might be reading the situation wrong, but I think we could move this conversation back to my place, if you’re interested. Courfeyrac is staying at his boyfriend’s tonight,” Enjolras says quietly, and Grantaire feels something inside him pull tight.

He wants to fist pump the air, maybe hug Courfeyrac for being so wonderful to break his collarbone and cause all of this, or possibly just get on his knees right then and there.

Instead, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Enjolras’ cheek, and nods. “I’d like that.”

-

The whole ride to Enjolras’ apartment, Enjolras draws light and winding circles on Grantaire’s inner thigh, and he feels like his brain might actually melt from the sensation. 

Reaching Enjolras’ apartment, he thanks all the deities he can think of that Enjolras only lives on the second floor. Enjolras tosses their coats onto a chair next to the door, and they spend an awkward moment standing there, before Enjolras mutters a barely audible  _ fuck it _ and pushes Grantaire into the door.

He gets Grantaire by the jaw, gently running his fingers from the lobe of Grantaire’s ear to his chin. Grantaire groans and throws his head back, giving Enjolras easier access to violate his neck. Enjolras leans in and presses the lightest of kisses to his cheek, using the hand on Grantaire’s jaw to tilt his head to an angle that’s easy to kiss, and Grantaire definitely isn’t going to survive the night. 

Grantaire isn’t expecting the feeling in his stomach to hit him like a truck when Enjolras suddenly springs to life, going from reverent and gentle kisses on his cheek to having their skin touch and it feeling like lightning. He gasps and threads a hand through Enjolras’ pillow soft curls, gently tugging him closer, trying to meld themselves together.

Grantaire definitely moans when Enjolras bites at his bottom lip, and then licks over it to soothe the burn. It’s all so overwhelming and Grantaire’s only taken off his jacket so far.

Enjolras pushes their lips together, intensity and 100% of his attention on the current task, and Grantaire is already so far gone he’ll never find his way home.

He pulls back, gasping for breath after who knows how long of trying to wrap himself up in Enjolras. “Fuck me,” He says, kissing Enjolras in a one-two-three, the third peck turning filthy almost immediately when Enjolras slides a leg between Grantaire’s thighs and rocks their hips together.

It’s almost a race, then, both of them trying to get to Enjolras’ bedroom and also get naked at the same time. Grantaire rips both of the shirts he’s wearing off over his head at once, and then reaches down to try and unbutton Enjolras’ pants as they walk. Enjolras huffs a laugh and moves his hand from the back of Grantaire’s neck to run down his chest, teasing a nipple before getting lower and eventually curling possessively around Grantaire’s lower back.

They crash on the bed together like horny teenagers on prom night, and Grantaire immediately takes advantage of Enjolras on his back and tugs his pants and shirt off, immediately diving for Enjolras’ abdomen. Grantaire licks from his throat down to his chest, where he take a brief but wonderful detour to lick Enjolras’ nipples and make him whine, and then kisses his way down to Enjolras’ dick, which is cherry red at the tip and so wonderfully hard.

Grantaire can’t help but put his lips to it, humming the way he knows feels good on the sensitive head. If the way Enjolras’ fingers tighten in Grantaire’s hair is anything to go by, Enjolras wholeheartedly agrees.

Grantaire licks the head, slowly sinking down and sucking lightly, grateful when Enjolras keeps his hips from bucking with some much appreciated self restraint. Grantaire runs a hand up the back of Enjolras’ leg and pinches his ass, causing a flustered yelp from Enjolras that Grantaire can’t help but laugh at.

“I am going to get you back for that,” Enjolras says, but there’s a smile on his face, so Grantaire figures that he’s not actually upset about it.

“Please, I absolutely want you to,” Grantaire says, crawling back up his body to kiss Enjolras, groaning in satisfaction when Enjolras lays a loud but not painful slap onto Grantaire’s ass. Enjolras raises an eyebrow and does it again, a little harder this time, grinning when it makes Grantaire bite onto his shoulder to keep himself from making embarrassing noises.

“We should definitely explore that more, later,” Enjolras says, his fingers dipping between Grantaire’s cheeks to brush lightly over his hole, and Grantaire nods appreciatively and moans, so caught up in Enjolras says  _ later _ and the feeling that he thinks he might drown.

“Hang on,” Enjolras mutters, reaching over to pull a bottle of lube from his nightstand, and Grantaire takes the opportunity to move off of him and get a good look at Enjolras as he rolls on a condom.

He’s beautiful, tanned skin and wild blonde curls, every muscle in his body playing a part in the way he’s beautifully placed on the bed. He has two little moles on his right hip that Grantaire never noticed when he was modelling and part of him is angry that he didn’t put them on his drawing.

He reaches out to touch them, and Enjolras looks at him with an undefinable expression.

“I didn’t put these in the drawing,” Grantaire mumbles, drawing little circles around them.

“Your drawing is absolutely breathtaking,” Enjolras says, leaning forward to kiss Grantaire so gently, so out of character from the rest of their night.

“I can only draw what I see,” Grantaire whispers, bringing a hand up to run gently up Enjolras’ neck to his jaw. Enjolras gives him that expression again, and kisses Grantaire again, harder and more desperate, and Grantaire gives just as good as he gets.

Enjolras’ finger presses against Grantaire’s hole, wet with lube, and Grantaire gasps. Enjolras kisses him sweetly and pushes in, and Grantaire is not going to survive this night, no way, not going to happen. 

He thinks he’s in love when Enjolras tenderly holds his jaw in one hand as the other slowly works Grantaire open, Enjolras’ mouth alternating between loving the side of Grantaire’s neck and whispering sweet little words into his ear, and it’s wonderful.

Enjolras pushes back in with two fingers, and Grantaire cries out, throwing a leg over Enjolras’ hip to try and get closer.

Enjolras snakes his free arm around Grantaire’s neck and crowds him in to kiss him harshly, intensely, sloppy. Grantaire feels himself being pulled tight like a string, wound up and aching for more, more, more.

Enjolras slides a third finger in, and the makes a  _ come here _ type motion, causing Grantaire’s legs to shake as they octopus Enjolras even closer. A cry that should be embarrassing but somehow seems to just spur Enjolras on even more rips through Grantaire’s throat unwarranted.

“Enjolras, you’re killing me,” Grantaire says, his tone far too close to a sob for his liking. 

Enjolras shushes him, kissing sweetly on the corner of Grantaire’s mouth, and Grantaire isn’t sure when this turned from being heated and desperate to being such a sensual and intimate thing, but he’s so on board with it. 

He pulls his fingers out and pulls Grantaire up, turning him over. Grantaire is very on board with this plan, and gets on his hands and knees, pushing his ass towards Enjolras, who makes a groaning sound and spreads his beautiful, long fingers over Grantaire’s hips.

Enjolras pushes in slowly but surely, like he’s afraid he’s going to hurt or break Grantaire, and that’s sweet, but Grantaire really just wants Enjolras to fuck his ass and hold him close, and he tells Enjolras as much.

Enjolras ignores him for a moment, sliding all the way in and leaning forward to bite harshly on Grantaire’s shoulder, hands sitting like brands on his hips.

“You want me to fuck you, huh?” Enjolras pants, his voice low and full of intent.

“Oh god,  _ yes,  _ would you plea- Oh!” Grantaire is cut off mid sentence by Enjolras harshly pulling out and shoving right back in, and just  _ yes yes god fucking damnit yes _ this is what Grantaire wanted, needed, craved.

Enjolras sets a rhythm that is both harsh and not enough, and Grantaire is rocking, crying with it, so desperately glad he has something to clench down on and drag this feeling out. Grantaire’s back arches in an almost painful fashion, and he’s panting in time with the snap of Enjolras’ hips.

Each shove of hot-full cock feels like it kills Grantaire a little more, pushing deeper and deeper into him until he’s sure he’s never going to feel this good again unless Enjolras fucks him forever. 

Enjolras readjusts his hands on Grantaire’s hips, tight enough to bruise this time, just the way Grantaire likes it, and when he shoves in again, it’s enough that Grantaire’s arms give out and he’s pushed onto the bed face first. He’s got tears in his eyes from how good he’s feeling, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this wonderful and hot, burning feeling in his gut.

Enjolras leans forward with him, and Grantaire can’t help the arm that he shoots out over his shoulder, grabbing Enjolras’ hair and dragging his face down next to Grantaire’s.

“You’re so fucking-  _ Grantaire- _ I wish you could see how you looked right now, spread out and begging for me, you’re incredible,” Enjolras pants, biting on Grantaire’s neck as Grantaire keens when Enjolras nails his prostate dead on, and keeps nailing it with terrifying accuracy.

“I have been wanting you all day, I can’t stop thinking about you. The way you drew me- no one… oh, my god-  _ no one  _ has ever looked at me that way. You’re just-” Enjolras babbles, trying to pull Grantaire even closer and also refrain himself from breaking the wonderful, bruising rhythm he’s got going on.

Grantaire can’t keep himself from moaning at Enjolras’ words, they spur him on so much more and he’s  _ so fucking close  _ he just needs one last push, a hand on him for a second and he’s done for.

Enjolras definitely is a mind reader, when a second later his hand takes hold of Grantaire, and gives one, two firm pumps. 

And Grantaire is just done. Boom. Annihilated. He’s definitely dead because Enjolras has just wrung out the single best feeling Grantaire has ever experienced, and clenching down on his cock for the ride of it made it all the more better.

He’s distinctly aware of Enjolras crying out and slamming his hips home, spent, but Grantaire’s ears are ringing and he’s pretty sure he’s still got a death grip on Enjolras’ beautiful hair, but his fingers won’t listen to him and he continues to hold on. His legs are shaking so bad, he’s afraid his knees are going to give out any second. 

Enjolras slowly pries Grantaire’s hand out of his hair and lays Grantaire on his side. Grantaire is fairly sure he gets up and leaves, but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes and can’t hear anything over his speeding heartbeat. The feeling in his legs is incredible, he isn’t sure if he’s going to be able to walk home tonight.

There’s a warm, wet rag running between his thighs, gently cleaning him up and wiping the lube left on his thighs away, and Grantaire is definitely attached, completely, stupidly in love with this man, and it’s literally been a day. He knows in some logical part of his brain that’s being drowned out by the orgasm that he’s more in lust than anything, but he doesn’t care.

Enjolras gets back into bed, then, pulling the covers gently from under Grantaire’s knees where they gathered while they were fucking, and covering both of them with it.

Grantaire knows he should say something, but he’s rendered speechless over the entire night, everything with this impossibly wonderful man makes him feel like he’s dreaming.

“If- if you wanted to, you could stay,” Enjolras says, voice uncharacteristically timid, and that forces Grantaire into action, he turns over and huddles close to Enjolras.

“Good luck getting rid of me,” Grantaire snorts softly, and Enjolras laughs, scooting just a little closer, and kissing Grantaire on the cheek. They fall asleep like that, two cheesy and already-too-attached idiots, and that’s perfectly fine with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I am the Grantaire in my own life, and am constantly fawning over beautiful people that are way out of my league. The first half of this is based off of a real like awkward as hell thing that happened to me. In my figure drawing class last semester we had a new model, and he was so attractive I had chest pains. We had to draw him nude for like 2 hours straight, and afterwards, he came over and complimented me on how I drew his butt. So, naturally, I was torn between taking off my pants and dying, and awkwardly babbled at him until he walked away. 
> 
> He didn't fuck me into a mattress later, so you can tell where this story departs into the fictional territory.


End file.
